


The Kids Aren't Alright

by amutemockingjay



Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: El is a scene kid, F/M, High School AU, I'm exposing myself with this one, Mike is a huge dork, Slow Burn, emo music
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-12
Updated: 2021-02-21
Packaged: 2021-03-10 17:46:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 16,008
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28031115
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/amutemockingjay/pseuds/amutemockingjay
Summary: El Hopper is a walking disaster. Knee deep in secrets, failing Chemistry, she is the outcast of Hawkins High. Enter Mike Wheeler, resident nerd and President of the A/V Club.Aka the Mileven High School AU where El is a scene/emo kid that no one asked for
Relationships: Eleven | Jane Hopper/Mike Wheeler
Comments: 82
Kudos: 82





	1. Lying is the Most Fun A Girl Can Have Without Taking Her Clothes Off

**Author's Note:**

> I am absolutely putting myself on blast with this AU because I was sixteen in 2007 and emo as hell, so welcome to Leah exposing her high school self for the sake of her OTP. Each chapter is named for an emo song because of course, and there's a mild trigger warning here for mention of self harm and eating disorders. 
> 
> Let me know what y'all think and don't be afraid to roast me in the comments--I still listen to Fall Out Boy in the year of our lord 2020.

El Hopper was not okay. 

“You’re grounded,” her dad said, arms crossed over his chest. 

“No, I’m not.” She rolled her dark-lined eyes. 

“I’m serious, Jane.” He only used her first name when he was truly pissed. “Did you really think you could get away with getting your tongue pierced and have me not notice?” 

“I mean, it took you about six weeks.” She grinned, leaning up against her bedroom door. 

“This isn’t funny,” he snapped, his voice rising. “First the cigarettes, then the detention, now this.” 

“You can’t exactly tell me not to smoke, given you’re a pack a day,” she shot back, swiping lip gloss across her lips. 

He let out a grunt of frustration. “Get in the truck. You’re gonna be late for school.” 

“Fine. I’ll be there in a sec.” 

As he disappeared out of her doorway and to where his car, emblazened with the Hawkins Police Department, sat in the driveway, she slipped into her room, opening her bedside table drawer. Biting her lower lip in concentration she jimmied loose the corner that would reveal the false bottom and secret compartment where she kept all the stuff she didn’t want her dad to know about: cigarettes, diet pills, a little baggie of weed, razors and laxatives, stolen from Melvald’s general store. She slipped the cigarettes and the laxatives into her backpack, and took a quick glimpse at herself in the mirror. 

Her dark hair was flat-ironed and teased to perfection, the little streak of purple in her bangs from where she and Max had bleached their hair, and then dyed it with Manic Panic. Brown eyes ringed in smudged, smoky eyeliner, and lips shiny with dark red gloss. A black and purple long sleeved striped shirt covered the physical evidence of her fuck ups, layered with a Fall Out Boy band tee, skinny black, ripped jeans and a chunky belt. 

“El!” The honk of the truck brought her back to reality, and she grabbed her backpack and threw it over one shoulder. 

“Coming!” She called back, and sprinted to the car, hopping into the front seat. She fiddled with the dials of the radio as her dad angled down the country roads of Hawkins, Indiana. Middle of nowhere, and scene of her pathetic life at Hawkins High. 

“Whatever you do, please don’t put that Chemical Hearts or whatever it’s called on,” her dad said, rubbing at his temples while he drank coffee out of a smudged tumbler. 

“You mean My Chemical Romance?”

“Yeah. Feels like my ears are bleeding.” 

She giggled. For all of his ill temper, she did care about him, and wanted to do right by him. Unfortunately, she felt like a grade-A fuck-up anytime she opened her mouth. Or moved. Or breathed. She switched the station to classic rock. The Clash--one thing her and her dad could agree on nowadays. 

Hop drummed his fingers on the steering wheel. “El…” 

He looked almost worried, and she hung her head a little. He had so much bullshit to deal with on the daily, and she was making it worse, she knew. And, of course, there were all the things he  _ didn’t _ know about. Part of her wanted to come clean, and let him in, the way she did when she was younger. But the shame was too strong. 

“Yeah?”

“I expect that tongue piercing to be gone by the time I pick you up after school today.” 

She scowled, the tenderness she had felt moments earlier vanish, anger in its place. “Fine,” she snapped. 

He pulled up to the front of the school, and she grabbed her bag, kicking open the car door with her Doc Marten’s. 

“Have a good day,” he called out to her. 

“Yeah, whatever,” she said, rushing to the front of school, where her best friend, Max Mayfield, sat on the railing, her skateboard at her feet. 

Max Mayfield didn’t quite match El’s darkness, appearance wise. Her bright red hair was long, tangled and wavy down to her waist. She wore Vans that were stained with ketchup, jeans with holes in the knees and a graphic print-t. Having moved to Hawkins from San Diego in 7th grade, the two girls had been inseparable ever since. 

“Who pissed in your Cheerios?” She asked, upon seeing the glare on El’s face. 

“My dad found out about the tongue piercing,” El replied. “I’m grounded, and I gotta get rid of it by the end of the day.” 

Max rolled her eyes. “Lame.” 

“Completely.” The warning bell rang, the one that was supposed to remind them to head to homeroom. 

“At least he didn’t find out that you--” Max made a motion with her fingers to her mouth to simulate purging. 

As if on cue, El reached into her backpack and pulled out an Altoid, popping it in her mouth. “For now,” she said morosely. 

“You’re gonna fuck up your teeth if you keep doing that shit,” Max said, reaching down to pick up her skateboard, putting it under her arm. Both girls leisurely walked towards their lockers. 

“I know,” El mumbled. 

Truth be told, she wasn’t sure how she had fallen so deep. It seemed like everything had changed last year, and a heaviness she didn’t understand made her head swim, leaving her on the bedroom floor crying for hours at a time, or staring blankly at nothing. She opened her locker, pulling out her Chemistry textbook. “I’m gonna fail the test today.” 

“Hey,” Max said, nudging her. “You don’t know that. It’ll be fine.” 

The second bell rang, and on cue, Ms. La Bonz was scouring the hallway for the stragglers so that she could personally invite them to detention. El took a quick glance around. It was only her, Max, and a skinny, dark haired boy at the opposite locker, struggling to balance his books. She bit back her laughter. Nerd. 

“Mayfield, Hopper, Wheeler!” Ms. La Bonz held three pink slips in her hand. “I’ll be seeing you three in detention.”

“Fucking great,” El muttered under breath. She’d have to text her dad and he’d blow a gasket, again. 

* * *

First period Chemistry was her idea of a nightmare. Try as she might, none of the math made any goddamn sense. El bit her lower lip as she struggled at the formulas in front of her. There was no way in hell she was going to make it through this semester in one piece. 

She doodled in the margins of her page, her mind wandering. She had loved school when she was younger, especially English,. She was the kind of kid who could read a book in a day. Now, she couldn’t remember the last time she had picked up something for fun. Not since she found the stack of files in her dad’s closet, the ones about her mother. 

El didn’t remember her mom. She had gone missing when El was a baby, and her dad was tight lipped on the subject. She got the feeling they had been a short lived fling, that El was more of a surprise than an intention. The files were under the floorboards in his closet, tied together and disintegrating in some spots. She had been bored that night, when he was working overtime, and figured maybe he stashed some good stuff down there. 

She was painfully wrong. The manilla folder, labeled “Terry Ives” had a collection of newspaper clippings he had meticulously stored over the years. “Local woman missing” read one headline, a month after El’s birth. “Was it postpartum psychosis or something else entirely?” Another headline screamed. And then the most recent one, from 2004. “Local woman’s disappearance possibly linked to convicted killer” 

Her heart sank, her hands clammy and shaky as she fingered the articles, desperate for further information. But there was nothing. An incomplete mess, just like she had left behind. The fury nearly choked her. How dare her dad never tell her the truth? How could he just keep all this from her? She replaced the files and the floorboards perfectly, blood pounding in her ears as her mind spun with possibilities. She could confront him. But when she heard his tires pull onto the gravel driveway, her words got locked in her throat. 

So she said nothing, and started throwing up not long after. It was easier to put all of her fury down the drain then say what was really on her mind. 

“One minute.” 

Her Chemistry teacher’s warning brought her back to the present, where her anxiety raged and her test was nearly blank. She turned the paper over. Might as well fold; she couldn’t pull these answers out of her ass if her life depended on it. 

When the bell rang she took off, not caring if she would get trouble for running in the halls. The Tastee Kakes smushed at the bottom of her backpack were calling her name, to be eaten in shame in a bathroom stall, hoping no one would come in. 

The axe had to fall eventually, and she wanted to avoid it as long as possible. 

* * *

As expected, her dad was pissed that she ended up in detention again. There was little she could do about it now, filing into Ms. La Bonz’s classroom after last bell. 

She took a seat next to Max. The dark haired boy sat a few rows away. 

“No talking, no texting, no eating. I expect it to be as silent as the grave in here. As. The. Grave.” Ms. La Bonz pulled out a paperback romance novel out of her desk drawer. 

El tried to hide her giggles behind her hand, and slipped her phone out from her bag. Max did the same; they would pass the hour as they always did. 

**El: god she’s reading that Fabio trash again**

**Max: the closest she’ll ever get to orgasm**

**El: ew don’t make me barf again. I DONT wanna think about her getting laid**

**Max: ur welcome :)**

**El: fuck u**

**El: do you know who that other kid is the one reading the comic**

**Max: Mike Wheeler. He’s in our chem class. President of the A/V club**

El glanced over at Mike, who seemed thoroughly engrossed in whatever he was reading. If he got a decent haircut and clothes that didn’t look like his mom picked them out for him, he might pass for cute. 

**Max: I c u checking him out**

**El: please**

**Max: Aw Ellie do u have a crush**

**El: fuck off**

Somehow, she found herself blushing, though Max’s teasing was far from the truth. She hadn’t dated much; being the police chief’s daughter worked as a repellent against any possible suitor, much to her dad’s pleasure and El’s chagrin. 

The most action she had ever gotten was making out with the kid who worked at the arcade in the back room. Hardly a riveting romance, and his breath smelled like Funyons. 

**Max: I dare u to talk to him**

El rolled her eyes. Still, she couldn’t turn down a dare. Pulling out one of her spiral bound notebooks, she ripped a piece of paper out, and scrawled “hi” in gel pen, folding it into a neat triangle. Glancing up to make sure Ms. La Bonz was fully engrossed in her bodice-ripper, El nudged the note onto Mike’s desk. 

He didn’t notice. Clearly, whatever nerdy shit he was into had absorbed him completely. El looked over at Max, and shrugged her shoulders. 

Max not so delicately coughed “Wheeler” in his direction and he looked up, confused. 

“Miss Mayfield.” Ms. La Bonz peeked over the top of her novel. “Is there a problem?” 

“No, Ms. La Bonz.” Max had a saccharine sweet smile on her face. “Just a tickle in my throat.” 

“Hmmph.” The heavyset teacher returned to her book, and Max shot a look at Mike. 

“What?” He mouthed to her. 

She pointed at the note, giving him a sharp condemnation of his density through a single glance. 

Brows furrowed, he opened the note, reading it. Max pointed to El, hoping he’d get the message. 

Sure enough, the note landed gracefully back on El’s desk. 

_Hi,_ the note said, in the most unintelligible chicken scratch she had ever seen. 

_Jesus,_ she replied, _I thought my dad’s handwriting was bad._

Mike shrugged her shoulders. _If it bothers you so much—_

He scrawled his number under the words. El raised her eyebrows. For a nerd, that was pretty smooth. 

**El: damn do you just give your number to anyone in detention?**

**Mike: only the ones who dye their hair with Kool-Aid**

**El: it’s Manic Panic, fuck u very much**

**Mike: it’s pretty**

Shit. There it was again, that blush creeping up on her. God, Max was never gonna let her live it down. Sure enough, a glance over at her best friend revealed Max grinning like an idiot. 

“You’re dismissed.” Ms. La Bonz stood up, herding them out of the classroom with a waddle. El, Max, and Mike spilled out into the hallway. 

“Do you need a ride or are you skating?” El asked Max. 

“Skating,” Max replied. 

El’s phone buzzed in her pocket. “That’s my dad out front, I’m sure.” 

“Tell the Chief I say hi.” 

“Sure thing.” El turned to Mike, who idled as he walked through the hallway. “And nice to meet you, uh…” 

“Mike,” Mike said. 

“Mike,” El echoed. Scuffing her boot on the linoleum she couldn’t quite meet his eyes. “I’m El Hopper.” 

“I know who you are,” he blurted out. 

Inwardly, El groaned. Likely, he knew her as Hawkins’ High resident freak, the not-so-closeted bulimic and cutter who dressed in all black and smoked cigarettes on the sly. Not exactly a flattering picture. 

There was an odd sort of tension as they stood in the hallway, Max rolling away on her skateboard. Something that El couldn’t quite put her finger on. The honk of a horn broke the spell, and El took off. 

“See you tomorrow or whatever,” she said over her shoulder as she raced to get to her dad’s car before she got into even more trouble. 

“Or whatever,” Mike echoed, too quiet for her to hear. 


	2. Dear Future Self (Hands Up)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Somehow, Mike Wheeler can't stop thinking about El Hopper.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank y'all so much for all the love on the first chapter!!!! Your comments mean the world to me and I will finish replying to all of them soon. 
> 
> I had always planned to alternate between Mike and El's POV so it's Mike's turn this chapter. I've gotten so excited about this WIP that I wrote about 7k words in 4 days and gave myself tennis elbow. I hope you enjoy the fruits of my pain. :D

Mike Wheeler wasn’t the type to land in detention. Or give his number to a girl he never spoke to. And yet here he was, sitting at his desk, trying to do homework but only thinking of El Hopper. 

He had seen how her face fell when he said he knew who she was. Another instance of him putting his damn foot in his mouth. 

Still, it was hard to go to Hawkins High and not notice El Hopper. Rumors swelled, of course: that she was a Satanist, that she was easy, that she got around, that her mom had been murdered. Rumors that were bullshit, as far as Mike was concerned. Underneath her combat boots and black eyeliner, El looked vulnerable. Delicate. Beautiful, though he would never admit as much in front of anyone. 

There was no way a girl like El Hopper would acknowledge him. Acknowledge him she had, though, putting that note on his desk in detention. Pushing aside his Calculus, he reached for his phone on his desk, his hands shaking as he typed out the text. 

**Mike: hey**

Chewing on the end of his pencil, the next few seconds were agonizing until his phone buzzed. He pounced on it, eagerly reading the response. 

**El: hey**

Mike wracked his brain, trying to think of something, anything to say. Though he was the leader of his group of friends, he was sixteen and had never had a girlfriend. Not exactly known for his smooth moves by any stretch of the imagination. 

**Mike: hope your dad isn’t too mad at you for getting detention**

He pinched the bridge of his nose, the embarrassment so strong he almost didn’t want to check the response. Curiosity got the better of him, however. 

**El: he was pissed. I’m already grounded tho so there’s not a whole lot he can do**

**Mike: damn that sucks**

**El: ur telling me. He didn’t take the tongue piercing 2 well.**

Mike’s eyebrows raised. Tongue piercing? Instantly, he wondered what it would be like to kiss someone with a tongue piercing. Tips of his ears burning, he tried to formulate a semi-coherent response. 

**Mike: too bad. Sounds like you need a rescue.**

**El: plz**

His heart hammered in his chest, sweat gathering under his arms. Was this an invitation? God, he wanted nothing more. His hands trembling, he typed his response. If she was just messing with him, he could never show his face at Hawkins High ever again. 

**Mike: are you being serious right now? Because I can figure something out.**

**El: god yes plz. I’d do anything to get out of here rn.**

Mike looked at his alarm clock. It was 9 pm. He could, concievebly, go out and be home by midnight. By the sound of the romantic oldies coming from the bathroom, his mom was having her “me time” in the bathtub. And he’d bet twenty bucks his dad was asleep on the Lay-Z-Boy in the living room. 

His phone buzzed again, and he checked it, his heart soaring. El had given him her address. That settled it. 

**Mike: on my way.**

* * *

The Chief really lived out in the middle of nowhere, Mike thought as he pedaled his bike to the address on the outskirts of Hawkins, near the woods. At the end of a dirt path was a cabin, the lights on. Mike wheeled his bike quietly around the back, hoping that El’s room was the farthest one and he could escape with her undetected. He peered into the window. 

Sure enough, El sat on the floor, drawing in a sketchbook. She would get along with Will, Mike realized. 

The walls of her room were painted deep blue, and her bedspread was purple. Glow in the dark star stickers were on her ceiling, and the walls were cluttered with emo band posters. He reached down to the ground; grabbed a handful of pebbles. As quietly as he could manage he threw them at the window, hoping she would notice. 

Nothing.

He tried again. “Psst!” He hissed, as loudly as he would dare. 

Her dark head appeared at the window. “You could have just texted me, you know.” 

Right. He was a dumbass. 

“Give me a sec; I’ll be right there.” 

She opened the sash to her window and shimmied out, landing on the dirt with a thump. Her shirt had ridden up in the process and Mike gulped, trying to keep his mind on focus but failing spectacularly. Her pale skin shone in the moonlight, and he wanted nothing more than to wrap his arm around the curve of her waist. Shit. This was gonna be harder than he thought. 

She straightened up, brushing twigs off her jeans. “Where did you park?” 

“Uh, I didn’t. I have a bike.” This night was just going to be him dying of embarrassment over and over again, apparently. 

“How quaint.”

“You can hop on the back,” he offered. 

And so she did, wrapping her arms around his waist to stay steady as he pedaled into the night. 

“Where to?” He asked as they made their way down the road. 

She shrugged. “I don’t care.” 

“Okay.” 

He headed in the direction of Hawkins’ only Dairy Queen, trying to focus on the road instead of her form pressing against him. He was only partway successful, the majority of his brain occupied with the sensation of her against him, of how badly he wanted to kiss her. 

“Dairy Queen?” She asked as they pulled into the parking lot. 

“Do you not like ice cream? Sorry, I should have asked. I get it, I mean Lucas is lactose intolerant…” he trailed off. 

“Mike.” She put a hand on his shoulder. “It’s fine.” 

“Okay.” His knees were shaking as he dismounted the bike and locked it up. “My treat,” he offered. 

She smiled at him and he felt like he was going to pass out. “Thanks,” she said. 

He got a Blizzard; she got a chocolate dipped cone, and they sat atop the only picnic table in front of the shop, digging into their treats. There was an awkward pause; he was engrossed in watching her eat her cone. It was hot as hell, if he was being honest. She stopped. 

“Mike.” 

“Wha?”

“You’re staring,” she said pointedly. 

“What?” Damn it, the tips of his ears were red again. “I was just uh, zoned out. That’s all.” 

She giggled. “Sure thing.” 

“Seriously.” 

“If you say so.” She bit into the cone. “Thanks for getting me out. I felt like I was going crazy.” 

“No problem. It can’t be easy having the Chief for a dad.” 

“You could say that again. He’s...protective. Mainly why I’ve never dated anyone before.” 

“You haven’t?” His voice squeaked as he spoke and he wanted to sink into the dirt for sounding like such an idiot. 

“I’m sure you’ve heard otherwise.” 

“No!” He stumbled over his words. “Not like that! I just—you’re pretty, I would have thought…” 

“It’s fine, Mike.” She stood up, straightening her shirt as she did so. “I’ll be right back, gonna see if they’ll let me use their bathroom.” 

“Sure. Right. Of course. I’ll just, uh, be right here.” 

As soon as she was out of sight, he put his head in his hands. Pathetic. That’s what he was. 

“Mike?”

“Huh?” She stood in front of him, applying a layer of ChapStick. 

“Are you okay?” She asked. 

“Yeah. I’m fine. Brain freeze.” 

She clambered up next to him, pulling a pack of cigarettes out from her jacket pocket. She offered him one. He paused. He had never smoked in his life, but there was a first time for everything, right? 

She lit both expertly, leaning back on her elbows. He took his first drag, and promptly began to sputter and cough, trying to catch his breath. 

She laughed. “Smoke much?” 

His head was spinning, lips tingling with the buzz of nicotine. “Not really,” he admitted, watching the ash fall to the ground. 

El took another drag. “It’s cute, really,” she said.

“What?”

“How innocent you are.” She flicked ash onto the ground. 

“Thanks? I think.” He stubbed out the rest of the cigarette. The brief few inhales left him feeling sick to his stomach. 

She didn’t respond, looking up at the sky above them. Hawkins was still small enough that you could see the stars. 

“Do you know the constellations?” He asked her. 

She shook her head. “Nope.” 

So Mike pointed them out—Orion, the Big Dipper, the Little Dipper. She listened, finishing her cigarette and leaning her head on his shoulder. Her hair smelled like coconut, and her skin like vanilla scented lotion and smoke. His heart was beating so fast he thought it would jump out of his chest, but she didn’t seem to notice. 

He knew that now would be the perfect time to kiss her. But Mike had never kissed a girl before, and the anxiety in the pit of his stomach stopped him from making any sort of move. 

She yawned. “I’m tired.”

Mike checked his watch. It was almost midnight. How had so much time passed in the blink of an eye. “Let’s get you home,” he said. 

She hopped on the back of his bike and they took off into the night. Less than ten minutes later they pulled into the back of the Chief’s house. El jumped off the bike. 

“Thanks,” she said. 

“You’re welcome.” He shuffled his feet. 

“Good night,” she said quietly, opening the window. 

“Good night,” he echoed hollowly, watching her to make sure she got back into her room safely, filled with yearning. 

Like it or not, he was falling for one El Hopper. 

* * *

“Mr. Wheeler.” The Chen teacher, Mr. Ambrose, stopped him at the end of class. 

Mike frowned. His head was pounding and his stomach still felt precarious after last night’s adventure. The exhaustion leaked into all of his pores. The last thing he wanted was a lecture about not paying attention. 

He had been too busy replaying the evening’s events over and over, his mind toying with all the what if’s that he knew would never come true. 

“Yeah?” He said to Mr. Ambrose, hoping the teacher didn’t hear the sour note in his tone. 

“It’s about El Hopper.” 

“What about her?” Mike asked, his palms starting to sweat. 

“She’s not doing so well in this class. Given that you’re excelling, I was wondering if you would be willing to tutor her.” 

“Yeah. Sure. Of course.” He could hardly believe his luck. 

“Excellent. I’ll be sure to let her know.” 

“Okay.” The bell rang for his next class and Mike grabbed his backpack. “I better go,” he said, floating down the hallway in a daze. 

It wasn’t until he was sitting in second period History that it hit him: he was going to have to spend an extended amount of time with El, and not make a fool of himself. 

A tall order if he had ever heard one. 


	3. Fuck A Silver Lining

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And thus, tutoring commences.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It makes my heart so happy that y'all are enjoying this story so much! It's been a ton of fun to write, and I try to write ahead so I can release chapters on a schedule--but we'll see how long that lasts as I'm currently on winter break and my MFA starts up again in mid-January. 
> 
> Either way, this brings me so much joy and I hope it brings you joy as well! 
> 
> Also when I was an emo kid in high school in small town New Jersey, the 7-11 was THE place to be haha

El was picking at her tater tots in the cafeteria when Mike approached her. Having just finished telling Max all about the Dairy Queen adventure, she could tell by the smirk on Max’s face that she was never going to live this down. 

“Hi,” she said casually, still staring at her fork. 

“Hi,” he echoed uncertainly. “Can we, uh, talk?” 

“Sure,” she agreed easily, picking up her tray and following him out to the courtyard. Max raised her eyebrows in a suggestive way, and El good-naturedly flipped her off. 

Throwing the remains of her lunch in the trash, she sat on the edge of a small brick retaining wall. 

“What’s up?” She asked. 

“Well, Mr. Ambrose talked to me after class—“

“Oh Christ,” she muttered. 

“And he said you were struggling with Chem and suggested maybe I help you?” 

She crossed her arms over her chest. He was right. She was failing Chemistry, and if she didn’t work on it, she’d be stuck in summer school. Still, the injury to her pride stung. 

“Like a tutoring thing,” she said flatly. 

“Yeah. I mean, if you want to. I mean, I’m pretty good at math I’m in Calc—“

She held up her hand in a “stop” motion. “I get the picture.” 

“Okay.” He looked a little disheartened at her harsh tone, like a puppy. 

The last test, with a big fat F on the front, was still in her bookbag, waiting to be signed by her Dad. He’d be pissed when he found out. But if she had a tutor, that might be mitigated….

“Okay,” she agreed. “I need help with my homework, though don’t go spreading that around.” 

“I won’t,” he promised. “Do you want to come over to my place or…?” 

“Grounded, remember? My dad will want to meet you anyway, to make sure I’m not lying about what I’m doing.” 

“Sure.” He nodded. “I’ll see you around 4?” 

“4 is fine.” The bell rang and she picked up her backpack. The urge to skip gym was high, and she wasn’t sure she could resist the siren call of the 7-11 across the street. She jumped over the retaining wall. 

“See you later,” he said, and she waved noncomittedly, pulling a cigarette out of her pocket. She had some thinking to do. 

* * *

There was something comforting about a 7-11. The fluorescent lights, scuffed floors, hot dogs rotating on the cooker. Plus the cashier didn’t card for cigarettes and didn’t ask questions when she skipped class. 

El headed to the back, filling a Big Gulp with Diet Coke. Tossing a buck at the cashier she pulled her iPod out of her jacket pocket. She couldn’t shake the jittery sensation that made her feel as though she were gasping for air. A walk with the latest Green Day album was a better use of her time rather than doing planks in the gym. 

Try as she might, she couldn’t get Mike Wheeler out of her mind. There was something incredibly endearing about his awkwardness; he approached the world in a completely different manner than her. Unjaded and wide eyed. Why he willingly wanted to spend time with a screw-up like her didn’t make a lot of sense to her. He had other friends—she vaguely knew their names—and probably a bunch of dorky hobbies. Yet he was taking time out of his week to tutor her. He had bought her ice cream and shown her the stars. 

And despite the overt romantic overtones of that night, he hadn’t tried to make a move on her. Frankly she wasn’t sure if she should be flattered or insulted by that—the ugly part of her mind, the one that counted her bones, told her it was because there was no way he could find her attractive. A more logical voice thought that maybe he was just shy. The logical voice was so quiet it was barely a whisper. There was no way it could win against the part that screamed her flaws to her 24/7. 

She glanced at her watch. Class was almost over, and her dad would be picking her up soon. She changed route to head back to the school and arrived on campus right before the bell rang. Unlocking her locker she grabbed her Chem textbook. 

“El.” Max tapped her on the shoulder, and she startled. 

“Jesus fuck, how many times do I have to tell you not to sneak up on me?” 

“A million and one.” Max pulled a pack of Bubble Yum out of her hoodie pocket and popped a piece into her mouth. “What did Wheeler want with you at lunch?” 

“He’s gonna tutor me in Chemistry.” 

“Aw, how cliche.” 

El inspected her appearance in her small magnetic locker mirror, adding another coat of mascara to her clumpy lashes. “Whatever.” 

“I’m telling ya, he’s got it bad.” 

El shrugged her shoulders, pulling a black beanie over her flat ironed hair. “I doubt that severely.” 

Slamming her locker door closed she walked down the hallway, Max skating slowly on her skateboard next to her. “So what are you gonna wear for your date?” 

“It’s not a date. He’s just helping me with his homework.” 

Max blew a bubble and popped it. “I’m sure.” 

El could see her dad’s truck parked out front as usual. “See you tomorrow.” 

Max hopped off her skateboard. “See ya. Don’t forget to text me all the juicy deets.” 

El put her hands in her hoodie pockets. “Not much to tell but if you want a play by play.” 

“Always.” 

Her dad was tapping on the steering wheel when she hopped into the front seat—his nervous habit. Something was stressing him, she could tell. Probably her. 

“How was school?” He asked as they pulled out of the parking lot. 

“Fine,” she said. As much as she tried to push it away, there was always that resentment between the two of them—at least on El’s end, once she found the files on her mother. 

“Just fine?”

“Yeah.” She stared at the window at the cornfields, and chewed on her painted nails. 

She knew she needed to break the news to him eventually. “So, Dad I…?” 

“You what?” He wasn’t well known for his patience. 

“I haven’t been doing well in Chemistry.” She hung her head. 

“Define not well.” He was gripping the steering wheel now as they bounded down country roads. 

“I’m failing,” she said in a rush, hoping the quick words would muffle the blow. 

Her Dad groaned in frustration. “Jesus, Jane, why didn’t you tell me?” 

She shrugged her shoulders. “I dunno. But um, anyway, a kid in my class offered to tutor me.” 

“You’re grounded, remember?” 

“I know. I figured he could come over here.” 

“He?” The Chief rubbed at his temple. 

“Mike Wheeler,” she said quickly. “He’s the President of the A/V Club,” she added. 

“I’m sure he is.” The truck pulled into the gravel driveway. “I know the Wheelers. Nice family.” 

She pushed open the car door and jumped down. “It’s okay, then?” 

Hopper nodded. “It’s okay.” 

The happiness she felt in that moment made her impulsive and bouncy with energy, she bounded over and wrapped her arms around her Dad. “Thank you!”

Hopper watched his daughter bound into the house with more cheer than she had in months and couldn’t help but wonder what exactly about seeing Mike Wheeler put her in good spirits. 

* * *

El had nothing to wear. She stared at the clothes hanging up in her small closet, hands on her hips. This was stupid. She was stupid. This wasn’t a date, for God’s sake. 

And yet here she was, obsessing over her wardrobe. There was a knocking sound at the front door and she glanced over at her clock radio. 4:01. Shit. 

In desperation, she grabbed the first thing she can see, some kind of black dress, and pulled it on over her head. 

“El!” Her dad called from the living room. 

“In a minute,” she snapped. 

Reaching to her bedside table she dabbed a few drops of vanilla extract at her wrists and slipped on her fingerless gloves. Her eyeliner was smeared, but it would have to do. 

“El!”

“Coming,” she yelled, and opened her door. 

Mike stood in her living room, making some kind of awkward small talk with Hopper. He was very clearly uncomfortable, his hands in his hoodie pockets, bookbag at his feet. 

“Hi El,” he said. She noticed the tops of his ears were red. 

“Hi,” she mumbled, embarrassed by the sudden pit in her stomach. 

“Where do you want to work?” He asked her, looking around the small space. 

The cabin was tiny, with a combo kitchen/living room, a dining table shoved into a corner like an afterthought. El had her own room, and her Dad turned the couch into a bed at night to fall asleep to reruns of Miami Vice. They shared a small tiled bathroom. Somehow, the thought of her dad overhearing her struggle with Chemistry felt less than ideal.

“We can work in my room,” she offered. 

Her dad made a grunt of disapproval. “Three inches.”

“What?” She furrowed her brows. 

“If you have a boy in your room the door has to be open at least three inches.” 

“Oh my god,  _ Dad _ !” 

She wanted to sink into the floorboards and never show her face again. Every part of her felt swelteringly hot and she was sure she was blushing. 

“Those are the rules.” 

She crossed her arms over her chest. “Fine.” She marched over to the door and pushed it open. “We can work here.” 

“Okay.” Mike followed her into her space. 

El sat on the edge of her bed, and lowered her voice. “I’m sorry about my dad.” 

“It’s fine, really.” He was standing in front of her, like he was too nervous to sit. 

Great. This was already starting off on a high note. 

“Um….you can sit here.” She indicated towards the bed. 

“Right. Sure. Okay.” Was she imaging it or were his hands shaking as he sat down and pulled the textbook from his bag. “The homework is on page 54.” 

And so for the next hour, with patience, he began to untangle Chemistry with her. He had a way of explaining concepts slowly so that they made sense to her. 

“You’re good at this,” El murmured. 

Spots of pink appeared on his cheekbones. “Good at what?” 

“Teaching,” she answered. “I just wasn’t getting the math when Mr. Ambrose went on his tangents.” 

“Yeah, he does that. The cool thing about Chemistry is that it’s all around us, you know? Like we’re all made up of atoms; the whole world is. So making it, I don’t know, more real, helps me.” His eyes lit up when he got excited about a subject, El noticed, and it was kinda cute. 

She wouldn’t say as much, of course. There was no point. 

He hummed quietly while he checked her work on the last equation. “You did good,” he said finally. “I think you’re getting the hang of this.” 

“I doubt it, but thanks anyway.” 

There was a knock at the door and El leapt away from Mike as if she was caught doing something she shouldn’t have been. 

“Come in,” El said, her voice quavering. 

Her dad appeared in the doorway. “Uh, kid, do you want to stay for dinner?” 

Mike shook his head. “My mom’s expecting me.” 

The Chief shifted uncomfortably. “Right. Well, I can give you a ride.”

“Thanks.” Mike snapped the Chemistry book shut and turned to El. “I’ll see you tomorrow, I guess.”

“Yeah,” she gave him a small smile. 

She noticed that the tips of his ears were red again as he left. The slamming of the front door and then the truck doors and El was alone. 

The urge to self destruct was palpable. And yet—her dad didn’t leave her alone much unless he worked the rare overtime shift. She peered out of her room and into the living space. A small desktop computer sat in the corner on a beat up desk. She would use it to browse the Internet or download songs onto her iPod. But what if…?

She opened the Internet browser and on a whim, typed her mother’s name into the Google search. Why she hadn’t done this when she first found the files in her dad’s closet, she didn’t know. Maybe because it would make the whole thing all too real. 

“Terry Ives” turned up several newspaper articles, including one from the Chicago-Union Tribune. 

“4 bodies found on Lake Michigan Shore, wrapped in burlap” the headline read, and El’s vision began to swim. Bodies? 

The files in her dad’s closet mentioned a local killer, but nothing definitive. 

She took a cursory glance at the article. “Teresa, “Terry” Ives, is suspected to be one of the bodies found dumped on the Lake Michigan shoreline….suspected serial killer of Midwestern women….found his victims on Craigslist….Ives has been missing from Hawkins, Indians, since 1992….” 

El closed the browser, bile rising in her throat. She had no memories of her mother. Only the photographs her dad kept in an album, from their brief relationship. He had documented her pregnancy with numerous photos, the joy showing on both of their faces. 

Tears pricked at the corners of her eyes and she wiped them away angrily. She wished, more than anything, that she could talk to her mom. Ask her if growing up was supposed to be this hard. Ask her why she left, so long ago. 

The sound of the front door opening startled her, and she jumped. 

Her dad was holding a grease soaked paper bag. “I thought I’d stop by Benny’s on the way home,” he said. 

El wanted to scream at him, throw things. Instead, she gave him a small smile, cracking on the inside. “Sounds great,” she said. 

He could never know how much she was hurting; it would break him. And as pissed as she was at his keeping of secrets, she didn’t want to give him that level of misery. So instead she swallowed her burgers and fries, kept her tone light and cheerful, like nothing was ever wrong. 

It wasn’t until later, throat swollen and puffed up from purging, that she let herself cry. 


	4. Hold Me Tight or Don't

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Saturday was D&D day. Too bad Mike couldn't focus worth shit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi y'all--
> 
> I normally don't release the next chapter till I've finished a certain amount ahead of schedule but it's been a week and I figured we could all have some ship content to distract us. 
> 
> One of the fun things about switching POVs is that Mike has no idea what's going on with El right now, and she's very much in avoidance mode so this chapter is a little cuter and fluffier. 
> 
> My stories tend to run with a dark streak through them but at the end of the day I'm a big sap and I believe in the healing power of love.

Saturday was D&D day. Always had been, since Mike was in middle school. Dustin, Will, and Lucas would convene on the Wheelers’ basement, and either Mike or Will would run the campaign. 

This time it was Will’s turn, something Mike was secretly grateful for because he couldn’t focus worth shit. 

“Mike, your move!” Dustin gave him an impatient glance. 

“Uh, fireball them?” 

“You want to fireball the old swamp witch who hasn’t done any harm?” Lucas’ glance was piercing. 

“No!” Mike scratched the back of his head. “Sorry. I zoned out.” 

“We noticed,” Dustin said. 

“He’s probably too busy mindfucking El Hopper,” Lucas said sarcastically. 

“Ew.” Will wrinkled his nose. 

“Shut up Lucas,” Mike snapped. “Let’s get back to the game.” 

“Aw, Mike’s got a crush!” Lucas teased. 

“I’m gonna crush you, Sinclair.” 

“Doesn’t El Hopper do drugs?” Dustin wrinkled his brows together. 

“No? You guys are ridiculous,” Mike fiddled with his dice. 

“Definitely a druggie,” Lucas agreed. “Heard she pukes everything she eats too.” 

“Who cares!” Will snapped. “Can we play D&D now?” 

“Yes, please,” Mike nodded in agreement. “And you can lay off El, all of you. She’s nice and I help her with homework that’s it. End of story.” 

“If you say so,” Dustin responded and Lucas raised his eyebrows. 

“If that’s what they’re calling it these days”, Lucas added, and Mike ignored the jab. 

“Whatever.” He tried to focus on the game, but try as he might, his mind kept wandering. Wondering what she was doing. He shook his head. He was stupid. 

It wasn’t until night fell, his friends hopping on their bikes, that Mike was able to let out the breath he’d be holding. Dustin and Lucas had already pedaled away, and it was just Will left. His oldest friend, the one who knew him best. 

“You ran a great campaign,” Mike offered, almost as an apology. 

“Thanks.” Will gave him a small smile. Slight of build and the target of vicious bullying, Mike often felt overly protective of his quiet, gentle friend. 

“I…” Mike trailed off, not sure what to say. 

“It’s okay, Mike.” Will shrugged his shoulders and hopped on his bike. “I don’t get it-get it, but I know what you mean.” 

Mike nodded. “Yeah.” 

“She must be a special girl.” 

“She is,” Mike admitted. 

Will’s wide brown eyes took him in. “I’m happy for you. Really. I’ll see you Monday.” 

“See ya,” Mike said. “Tell your mom I say hi.”

“Sure thing.” And with that, Will pedaled into the night, leaving Mike alone with his thoughts. 

* * *

There was a corner of the Wheelers’ basement that had been made into a blanket fort long ago. Mike liked to crawl into there to think, even though he was far too old for blanket forts. 

Tonight, his thoughts were at war with him. 

Part of him wanted to ask El out somewhere, though the pickings in Hawkins were limited. Maybe the Starcourt Mall to go see a movie. The larger part of his mind was very loudly reminding him that there was no way in hell she would say yes. Why would she? 

And if she did say yes, he didn’t exactly look forward to having that conversation with the Chief. 

El Hopper was beautiful and sweet and far out of his league. Even if she hadn’t dated before. 

His phone buzzed in his pocket and he flipped it open. Sure enough, there was a text from her, and his heart began to beat faster. 

**El: what r u doing**

His palms began to sweat. There was nothing he could say that could make himself sound even vaguely cool. 

**Mike: nothing**

**El: riveting. wanna come over? im still on lockdown but dad is working overtime**

She was home alone. Oh god. Stomach swooping, he scrambled to his feet. He wasn’t prepared for this. Still—he’d be crazy to turn her down. 

**Mike: okay.**

**El: if anyone asks, ur helping me with hw**

**Mike: got it.**

He ran upstairs, grabbing his bike out of the garage, vaguely yelling to his mom that he was spending time with a friend. 

* * *

Biking proved a good way to get his excess adrenaline out of his system. Unfortunately by the time he arrived at the Chief’s place he was a sweaty mess, his dark hair stuck to his forehead. 

He tried his best to fix said unfortunate hair and after a minute, knocked on the door. 

El answered after a moment, and he found himself stunned at just how pretty she was. 

“Hey,” she said. 

“Hey,” he echoed, still in a daze. 

“Max isn’t answering my texts,” she said. “She’s probably at the skate park or something.” 

So he wasn’t her first choice. He tried to shrug off the snub, but it stung. 

“Come on in,” she said, ushering him into the cabin. Music floated out of her room, some kind of punk-pop. “I...don’t really like being alone on nights like this,” she confessed, looking a little sheepish. “Do you want anything to eat?” 

He shrugged his shoulders and she poked her head into a pantry cupboard pulling out Oreo Cakesters, Doritos, and Diet Coke. 

“I mean, I’m not gonna say no to Doritos,” he replied. 

“Same,” she admitted. She took a seat on the couch and after a moment of hesitation, he joined her. 

“It’s nice to see a girl actually eating,” he said. 

“What do you mean?” 

“I, uh, I mean….a lot are on diets, you know? Like my sister, and my mom.” 

She rolled her eyes. “Clearly you haven’t hung around me and Max enough.” 

“Yeah. I mean, it’s a nice change, that’s all.” God, he sounded so dumb. 

There was an awkward beat, El biting her lower lip, seemingly deep in thought. She was so adorable he wanted nothing more than to pull her into his arms and kiss her. Of course, that would take courage he didn’t have. 

“Do you wanna watch a movie or something?” She asked after a moment. 

“Uh, okay.” 

She gave him a small smile. “Normally I’d offer a more exciting adventure but if my dad is working overtime word gets around if someone sees me around town.” 

Mike raised an eyebrow. “The Chief really that strict, huh?” 

“He’s just….protective. It sucks ass but I kinda get why, even if I hate it.” 

“Protective?” 

She shrugged her shoulders. “It’s a whole thing.” There was something guarded in her tone, and he could tell there was much more to the story. Though his curiosity was nagging at him, he knew better than to press. 

“I mean, at least you usually see Max?” He offered. That probably sounded lame. 

She smiled and he realized he would do or say anything to get her to smile at him again. “Yeah. She’s my best friend. I’m lucky to have her.” She cleared her throat and changed the subject. “Do you have a movie preference?” 

Mike shook his head. “I’m fine with whatever.” 

“Okay!” She perked up. “Ive been on a bit of a J-horror kick lately. Like Ringu, The Grudge, that kinda thing. Is that all right?” 

He thought it over. Scary movies meant maybe, just maybe, she would get scared and cling to him. He didn’t see El as the type to scare easily but anything was possible. “Sure,” he agreed. 

“Awesome.” She went over to the ancient TV/DVD player and put in the American version of The Ring. “This one is my fave, even if it freaks me out for days after.” 

He couldn’t keep his smile at bay. He could have El Hopper in his arms tonight. 

* * *

Mike had difficulty following the plot of the movie. He was too busy studying El as she watched intently, occasionally reaching for an Oreo Cakester or a handful of Doritos. 

Her eyes were beautiful, brown with honey flecks. And in the light of the television, he could see a sprinkle of freckles across her adorable nose. Her lips were full but not too full, coated in some kind of glossy stuff. He wondered if it tasted good. 

Briefly, their hands touched when they both reached for some Doritos, and his skin tingled where it had made contact with hers. She didn’t seem to notice, at least not as far as he could tell. 

And now she was leaning up against him, her head resting on his shoulder for a moment. She pulled away, spots of pink on her cheeks. 

“Sorry,” El said, biting her lower lip. 

“It’s, um, it’s okay.” He tried to swallow the lump in his throat, nerves making sweat begin to develop under his arms and on the palms of his hands. 

“Really?” She was even cuter when she seemed indecisive like this. “I didn’t mean to like, invade your space.” 

“Really,” he said, his voice trembling slightly. 

“Okay.” She leaned her head back on his shoulder until the credit rolled, when a static noise startled them both. 

“Jesus fuck!” She jumped up, hand on her heart. 

“What is that?” It sounded like an old radio. 

El pointed to a little unit in the corner. “An old police radio. Dad uses Morse code to send me messages; he’s done it ever since I was little.”

She listened for a moment. “Ten minutes.” Glancing at the coffee table filled with snack wrappers. “I better clean this up.” 

Wrappers were balled up into the trash by the two teens, the spell of the previous moments broken. Stupid Hopper and his stupid radio, Mike thought bitterly as El finished cleaning and headed to the bathroom. 

“I’ll be right back,” she said, and closed the door. He could hear running water on the other side and shrugged. Girl stuff. 

Five minutes later she emerged, wiping her mouth. 

“Is your dad gonna be mad that I came over?” 

She shrugged. “I don’t know.” 

“I don’t like those odds.” His heart sunk as he heard Hopper’s truck crunch against the gravel driveway. 

In a few short moments, Mike was face to face with the burly policeman, who took in the scene. 

“What exactly is going on here?” He asked, gazing back and forth between El and Mike. 

“I asked Mike if he wanted to come over and watch a movie.” El piped up. 

Watching a movie,” Hop said slowly, with some skepticism in his tone. “Despite being grounded.” 

“Well, I didn’t go out,” El retorted. “Isn’t that what you wanted?” 

Mike could see the Chief’s hand tremble as he ran it through his messy hair. “Well, party’s over,” he said, clearly trying to control his temper. “I’ll take Mike back and we’ll have a talk when I get home, young lady.” 

“Whatever,” El snapped. 

Mike wanted to sink into the floor. Being trapped in the Chief’s police truck didn’t sound like his idea of a good time. Still, he knew he had little choice in the matter and followed Hopper’s lead. 

“I’ll see you later,” he said to El who nodded. 

Damn Hop and his interference. Mike and El had been so close, her head on his shoulder. And now that was all ruined. 

Still, it was several minutes of tense silence in the truck before the Chief finally spoke. 

“So tell me,” he said, gripping the steering wheel,” what exactly your intentions are with my daughter.” 

Oh shit. Mike swallowed hard, a lump in his throat refusing to go away. 

“I….” 

“Spit it out.” 

“I just wanna spend time with her,” Mike said. 

The Chief’s knuckles were turning white with the strength at which he gripped the steering wheel. “Look, kid. I don’t trust you. At all. El’s been through a lot, more than you know. And I’m not gonna let you break her heart. She doesn’t need that; I don’t need that.” 

“I’m….not intending to.” 

“That’s not the point. I’ve been your age.” 

Mike rolled his eyes. He couldn’t imagine Hop being a teenager anymore than he could predict his own future. 

“I’ve done stupid shit to girls, without girls. And I see that you make her happy—for now. But so help me, kid, if I find out you do the opposite of making her happy, I’ll be damn sure to make sure you don’t get near her again. Understood?” 

The truck pulled into the Wheelers’ driveway and Mike unbuckled his seatbelt. Hopper reached over and placed his hand on the door handle, keeping it shut. 

“I said, do you understand?” 

“Yeah, okay.” 

“Not good enough,” Hopper snarled. 

“Fine. Yes, sir.” 

El wasn’t kidding when she said her dad was protective. Hell, he looked a little insane. And he was Chief of Police, who was gonna question him if Mike suddenly went missing? He shook his head, trying to ignore the morbid intrusive thought. 

The Chief let go of the door. “Good.” 

Mike took his leave, his head spinning as he went through the front door. His dad was asleep in the living room yet again and he headed upstairs to his room. 

His phone was buzzing; a quick glance let him know it was the group text with Dustin, Will, and Lucas. Nothing from El. Laying on his bed, he stared up at the ceiling, his mind wandering to the evening. 

She had been so close, her head leaning on his shoulder. It was platonic, it had to be, at least on her end. In her eyes she was just watching a scary movie with a friend so she didn’t have to be alone. 

Yet Hopper’s threat seemed to imply he saw something else in their closeness. Just the delusions of an old man, Mike thought. 

Nothing more. 

And damn if it didn’t hurt, knowing that’s all it would be. 


	5. Teen Idle

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Feelings aren't so easy to hide, at least when it comes to Mike Wheeler.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi y'all! I really wanted to get this chapter ready and posted for you guys because I am having surgery this Wednesday so....we'll see how much writing actually happens. 
> 
> I've enjoyed writing this so much and it makes me so happy that y'all are enjoying reading it. The dress El picks out at the end is absolutely inspired by Lydia Deetz's dress in the Beetlejuice musical bc you bet your ass I would have worn something like it back in the early 2000s.

“Holy shit,” Max said, a stunned look in her blue eyes. 

El leaned up against the railing by the school stairs, in front of the main building. “I know,” she said glumly. 

She hadn’t talked much about her Mom to Max. They each had their family secrets, only hinted at here and there—El knew that there was dysfunction at Max’s house with her step-dad and brother, but not much else. 

“You don’t know it’s her for sure, though, right?” Max asked. 

El shrugged. “The article was guessing. My dad would know for sure, probably.” 

“God, he’s such an asshole to keep this from you.” 

El scowled. Max was right, but something in her brought out a certain defensiveness, like it was only okay if she said it, rather than Max. 

“What am I supposed to do about it?” She snapped. “If I ask, he’ll know that I went looking through his stuff. He can’t know that I know.” 

Max kicked up her skateboard, slipping it under her arm. “How badly do you want to know the truth?” 

“Badly,” El admitted. “But at the same time not. I want it to not be real.” 

“Fair.” 

Truth be told, ever since she had seen that article she felt as though someone had hollowed out her insides with an ice cream scooper. There would be the occasional bout of sadness, but mainly she was numb, between binge/purge sessions whenever she could get away with it. Her throat was raw and there were ugly scabs on her knuckles but for the first time, she felt like she couldn’t stop, and that scared her more than she could say. 

So she had retreated into avoiding, and focusing on something, anything other than her Mom. 

El reached into her backpack and pulled out a mint, popping it into her mouth. “In other news, Mike came over on Saturday night.” 

“Oh my god you slut! Tell me everything.” 

“It’s not like that.” In the distance, the morning bell rang. Both girls ignored it. 

“Sure it’s not. Saturday night isn’t date night or anything.” 

“My dad was working overtime, and I guess you were at the skate park or something. I didn’t want to be alone all those hours. It wouldn’t….end well.” 

Max nodded, understanding. “Still, you guys were alone.” 

“Nothing happened! We just watched a movie and ate Doritos.” 

“The Dorito marker strikes again.” 

“Shut up. Anyway, nothing happened. I really don’t think he thinks about me that way.” 

The second bell rang and Max began to walk towards the school. “You’re really dense if you think that, El. He’s tutoring you again?” 

El nodded. “Yeah, after school.” 

“Wait and see. He’s into you. It’s only a matter of time before he acts on it.” 

And with that, Max headed into home room, with El turning her words over and over within her mind. 

* * *

Try as she might, she couldn’t focus in class. Her mind kept wandering to what had happened to her Mom, about how long she could go without confronting her dad and demanding the truth. She felt as though she were breaking. When the bell rang for lunch instead of heading to the cafeteria with Max she wandered out into the hallway, hoping to make a run for it. 

Fuck school, and fuck today. 

She didn’t notice that she was crying until a hand reached out, touching her shoulder. 

“El? Are you okay?” 

El turned around, mascara stinging in her eyes. Mike. Of course. 

She tried to clear her throat but that only set off the raw patch and she winced with pain. “I’m fine,” she managed to say, but she doubted it was very convincing. 

“Do you want to go outside? I mean, um, it’s kinda loud and annoying here. We can...talk, or something. Only if you want to, I mean.” 

She could sense that he was trying to be helpful, and part of her wanted to push him away. He didn’t need to saddle himself with her and all her fucked up problems. 

And yet.

When he was over at her house, she felt safe, in a way that she couldn’t explain. She had almost let her guard down with Mike. Almost. 

“Okay,” she agreed. 

He took the lead, walking until they reached a grassy knoll a good distance from the front of the school. He flopped onto the grass with little care. El, on the other hand, tried her best to sit with grace despite her plaid miniskirt and ripped black tights. 

She shivered a little; the air was changing from autumn to winter and she had left her coat in her locker. She was always cold nowadays. 

“Um, do you want….?” He offered his gray hoodie to her. 

She accepted with gratitude, and he draped it around her shoulders. 

“It suits you,” he offered, and she laughed. 

“If you say so. Black is more my color.” 

He looked down at his sneakers. “I think you’d look pretty in any color.” 

A beat. El fiddled with the bracelets on her wrist, unable to meet his eyes. There was an unspoken electricity between them, a spark of possibility, if only she let it in. 

Finally, she spoke. “You don’t have to be nice to me, you know.” 

He shrugged. “I know. I want to. My friends think I’m crazy for it.” 

“Maybe they’re right,” she snapped. 

“El—I don’t mean—I don’t agree with them, okay? I think they’re wrong.” 

“But what if they weren’t?” The words were spilling out of her faster than she could control. “What if I am fucked up? What if the rumors were true? What then, Mike?” 

“Then….I would still like you.” He was red, and not from the cold. 

El felt a rushing in her ears. Her head swam and she felt faint, but not from low blood sugar. Her heart, her traitorous heart, picked up. No one liked her, not in that way. She was too messy, too complicated. Too aloof. 

“You….like me,” she said slowly, in disbelief. 

I mean….” he wouldn’t meet her eyes now. “Yeah.” He started ripping up some grass next to his feet. “Is that so hard to believe?” 

“That someone other than Max wants to spend time with me? A little.” 

She was torn between anxiety and, as hard as it was to admit, elation. A combination that left her dizzy and out of breath. 

“You’re not a bad person, El.” His hand inched closer to hers. 

“I….” she tried to take a deep breath to steady herself but the tears started again, as much as she wanted to appear tough. 

“Hey, um, it’s okay.” He took her hand in his fully now, and she let him. His fingers were callused, and his hand a little warm. “Sorry, uh, I’m not really good with….” 

She used her free hand to wipe away the tears. His uncertainty was endearing, in its own way. “It’s okay,” she said. She made no move to let go of his hand. “Thanks. For being there.” 

They sat in a silence for a few minutes, El trying to take a few deep breaths and let the tears pass. 

Finally, Mike spoke. “El?” 

“Yeah?”

“Do you want to go out with me sometime?” 

The words tumbled out in a rush, and it took her a moment to make sense of what he was trying to say. Then it clicked. She gave him a small smile, that warmth in her chest coming back. 

“Yeah,” she said. “I’d like that.” 

His eyes lit up. “Friday night?” 

“Sure.” 

“I’ll pick you up,” he said. 

In the distance, the bell rang and Mike jumped to his feet. 

“I’ll see you after A/V club? For tutoring.” 

She nodded, standing up and brushing off the grass on her skirt and tights. She noticed Mike wasn’t immune to staring at her as she did so. 

What she did next was an impulse, but not one she regretted. Leaning in, El pressed a quick kiss to his cheek. 

“See you later,” she said, before wandering back to the parking lot to get picked up, leaving Mike stunned, his hand reaching up to touch his cheek as if he couldn’t believe what just happened. 

* * *

**El: Mike asked me out**

**Max: I knew it!!!! Told u**

**El: yeah w/e u were right. We’re going out fri night**

**Max: gonna have to go shopping beforehand to get u something for the occasion**

**Max: c if ur dad will let you stay over at my house on Thursday. We’ll go 2 starcourt**

**El: god i hope he lets up on this grounding thing soon**

**Max: he should. Where is Mike taking you?**

**El: idk**

**Max: ur seeing him this afternoon 2 tho yeah? For “tutoring”**

**El: it’s actual tutoring**

**Max: sure it is b sure 2 tell me all the slutty details**

**El: fuck u**

**Max: save it 4 wheeler**

* * *

El chewed on the end of her pencil as she stared at her Chemistry textbook. Mike was explaining an equation to her but as hard as she tried, she couldn’t concentrate. 

“El?” 

“Huh?” She snapped back to reality. 

“You seem kinda out of it,” Mike said. 

“Yeah. I just—have a lot on my mind.” Not all of it good, but he didn’t need to know that. 

“Do you wanna take a break?” He asked, and she nodded. 

“I’m just gonna grab some Diet Coke,” she said, standing up from her place on her bed. “Do you want anything?” 

He shook his head and El headed into the living area where her dad sat on the couch, reading the newspaper, his way of subtly eavesdropping. 

“Everything okay?” He asked, as El grabbed a can from the fridge. 

“Fine, I guess.” She hated how her conversations with her dad had gotten so one-note, but she didn’t really know how to tell him what was going on with her. He wouldn’t understand. And she missed how she would tell him everything about her life without abandon. They had been close. There was a lump in El’s throat and and she felt like she was gonna start crying again. “Mike and I are just taking a break from homework. Can we sit out on the porch with our soda?” 

“Sure thing.” Her dad got up and opened the curtains. El rolled her eyes—of course he’d be spying. 

“Want to go sit on the porch?” She asked Mike, who got up and followed her. 

“Sure.” 

The narrow cabin porch did have a porch swing, installed by Hopper one summer. El sat on one side, Mike opposite her. The space was so narrow that their knees touched: El’s in her ripped tights, Mike with his jeans. 

“You can talk about it, if you want,” Mike offered. 

El took a long sip of her soda. If he knew—truly knew—what a screw up she was, she could kiss that date goodbye. He would leave her and she would fail Chemistry and have to go to a different school to escape the humiliation. 

“It’s okay,” she said. “Really. I just needed a breather.” She looked out to the forest. 

“Did you always live this far out of town?” Mike asked, taking in the trees. 

“For as long as I can remember,” El said. “Maybe Mom and Dad were closer to town before I was born, or before Mom….disappeared.” 

Mike nodded. He had never seen El’s mom at any sort of school function. It was always the Chief. “Does she live in the city or something?” He asked. Divorces weren’t common in Hawkins but they did happen. Dustin’s mom was the only figure in Dustin’s life, and Will’s dad split years ago. 

“It’s….complicated,” El said, taking another sip. “I’ll leave it at that.” 

Mike nodded. “It’s okay. We don’t have to talk about that.” 

El looked down at her chipped black nails. She was so close, sitting opposite to him with their knees touching. She could just lean over and kiss him. If she wasn’t afraid to. And if her dad wasn’t likely spying on them in that very moment. 

She looked out again. The sun was starting to set earlier and earlier and now the sky was shades of pink and gold. 

“You should probably head back home, so you’re not late for dinner,” she said. 

“What about your homework?” 

“I’ll be okay.” 

“Are you sure?” He was cute when he was worried—worried about her. Brows furrowed, a look of puzzled concentration on his face. 

“I’m sure.” She stood up, and reached over to squeeze his hand. “I’ll see you on Friday, okay?” 

He brightened at that. “I can pick you up at 7.”

“Okay.” She watched him grab his bike and pedal away and when he was a speck in the distance she turned back to walk inside. 

Her dad was reading the newspaper. “Everything okay?” 

She took a deep breath, readying her nerves. “Dad, can I ask you something?” 

* * *

“What about this?” Max held up a black dress with a corset style top. 

El tapped one finger against her chin, considering. “Maybe?” 

Her dad had relented and let El go out with Max and sleepover, and go out with Mike on Friday night. The girls took the bus to Starcourt Mall, the only mall in Hawkins’ vicinity. And the only way El could go to a Hot Topic. 

Her dad hated the place, so much so that he’d hand her some cash to go shopping and sit at the It Can’t be Yogurt in the food court to spare himself the migraine. 

“Go try it on,” Max said, handing her the plastic hanger. 

“Okay.” El grabbed another dress as well, this one black and lacy with safety pins at the collar. 

“Show me both,” Max decreed as El entered the small, cramped dressing area. 

Quickly El undressed, trying to avoid looking at herself in the mirror as she pulled the first dress on. It was short, with short sleeves, the corset style back lifting up her small cleavage to the best of her advantage. But those damn sleeves. Looking in the mirror, she could easily see the scars that crisis-crossed her arms. Many had healed, but a few were still in an angry red stage. Mike couldn’t know this about her; she would die if he did. 

“El?” Max asked. 

“Coming,” El replied. “Just having trouble with the zipper.” 

“Lemme help.” Max shoved aside the velvet curtain and took in the sight of her friend. “You look hot. Wheeler’s gonna drool all over you.” 

“I’m not sure I like it,” El said slowly. 

Max pursed her lips. “Well, there’s always the second one,” she offered. 

Sure enough, when El slipped the second dress over her head, she knew it was the one. The dress fell to her knees, with a ruffle of black fabric and lace. The sleeves were long but translucent black, so it covered her scars without looking dowdy. The collar was ruffled in a half circle which were trimmed with safety pins, and there was a sash in the back. 

“I feel like a Princess,” she said to Max as she turned around in the mirror, the skirt swishing in a rather satisfying manner. 

“You’re a Goth Princess,” Max said. “You should get it.” 

So El did, with an extra bottle of manic panic to refresh her purple streak and a black tattoo choker. 

“Wheeler’s not gonna know what hit him,” Max said over a plate of fries in the food court. 

“Yeah…I’m kinda nervous.” 

“Why?” 

“I guess I’m just afraid that….” El swirled her fry in a little pile of ketchup, “That if he knew how screwed up I am he’d run in the opposite direction.” 

“El.” Max reached out and held El’s other hand, squeezing it. “You aren’t a screw up, okay? You’re human. A wonderful human, in fact. And if he dares walk away from you because of that you know what?” 

“What?”

Max leaned closer to El, her voice low and dangerous. “Then fuck ‘em.” 


	6. Hold Me Tight or Don't

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> First date

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi y'all-- thanks for being so patient with me. Surgery went well and I'll be responding to all your lovely comments soon. I decided to something a little different this chapter. Because its their first date I have both Mike and El's POV in this chapter rather than just one POV. Next chapter will be returning to the usual format I just wanted both of them to talk this time.   
> I hope y'all enjoy!!!

Mike had paced so much in the past hour he was surprised he hadn’t worn a hole in the carpet. He had started getting ready for his date with El far too early, and now here he was, freshly showered and dressed and still with thirty minutes of nervous energy to kill. 

Every possible insecurity that kept him up at night now came at him, leaving him with a knot in his stomach and sweaty palms that wouldn’t dry off, no matter how many times he tried to discreetly wipe them off on the side of his jeans. 

Mike was reasonably confident in his academic abilities, in his position as a leader amongst his friends, his extracurricular activities with the A/V club. Yet, this area—dating—was the one where he fell short. 

And somehow, El had said yes. There were plenty of hot girls at Hawkins High, but none of them gave him the time of day. Hell, even Dustin had gotten a girlfriend before him; a girl he met at science camp named Suzie who he texted incessantly during the school year. Whenever Mike tried to talk to a girl it was like something in his dumbass brain caused his tongue to tangle into knots; far from the smooth talking Steve Harrington, his sister’s ex and former King of Hawkins High. 

Mike definitely didn’t have the hair going for him, that’s for sure. Glancing over at the clock he saw it was 6:45 and he went into the bathroom to rinse one more time with mouthwash before bounding downstairs. 

“I’m headed out,” he called to his mom, who was at the stove making dinner for his dad and little sister, Holly. 

She looked up from her casserole dish. “Well, don’t you look handsome!” 

“Oh my god, Mom, stop.” Mike rolled his eyes and grabbed the car keys from the crystal bowl by the door. “Thanks for letting me take the car.” 

Technically, he was licensed, but his parents didn’t let him use the car often. Tonight was the exception. 

“Of course, honey,” Karen said. “Just be back by 11.” 

“Got it.” And with that, he was gone, before she decided to embarrass him further by taking pictures or something. 

He arrived at the Hopper cabin at 7 precisely, pulling in on the gravel driveway behind the Chief’s truck. Reaching for the bouquet of carnations he had gotten at the Stop and Shop a few hours before, Mike got out of his car and knocked on the front door of the cabin. Of course, just his luck: Hopper himself answered the door. 

“Ellie, your date is here,” he called into the cabin, sounding deeply unenthusiastic about the whole thing. 

Mike heard El reply, “One minute!” as Hop let him into the cabin’s main living area. 

He felt like an idiot, standing there with his bundle of flowers, face to face with the Chief, who had recently threatened him in his truck. Now, the Chief had his arms crossed over his chest and was staring Mike down like a predator hunts prey. 

“You remember what we talked about, right, kid?” He asked Mike. 

“Yeah,” Mike replied. 

“Good.” 

At that moment El emerged from her room, and Mike stared at her stunned. El was already beautiful, he knew that, but tonight she had dialed it up to ten, with a frilly black dress and lacy fingerless gloves, her hair straightened with some kind of bow in it. 

He held out the red flowers. “For you.” 

He was rewarded with her smile as she took the bundle, his heart doing that humming thing upon seeing her joy. He felt dizzy, intoxicated as she leaned in while grabbing the flowers. 

“Thank you so much,” she said. “They’re beautiful.” She bustled through the small kitchen, skirt swaying, as she searched through cabinets for a vase. 

“Remember, El, your curfew is 10:30,” Hop said, turning his gaze back to Mike as he said, “On the dot.” 

“Got it,” Mike replied. 

El bounded up to him, having finished with the flowers, and took his hand in hers. “See you later,” she called as they headed out of the cabin and into the night. 

“So you do have a car,” she noted, taking in the beat up station wagon. 

“On loan,” he said, fumbling with the keys as he unlocked the door, and held open the passenger side for El. 

“Fair enough,” El replied. “Where are we going, exactly?”

“Uh….I thought Benny’s, if that was okay? If you’re not hungry that’s cool we can totally--”

“Mike, it’s fine,” El said. “I haven’t had dinner anyhow.” 

The drive to the diner was quick—the perks of living in a small town—and they were definitely the most overdressed couple in the joint. Still, he was surprised at how conversation flowed once they sat opposite each other in a vinyl booth. So many of their past conversations weren’t stilted per se, but there was a tension, a yearning, that went unacknowledged until now. 

With that out in the open, he found himself opening up to her a little, and she did the same. She mixed ketchup and Mayo together, swirling her fries in the odd mixture as she talked. 

“I wish I had talked to you sooner,” he admitted. 

El shrugged her shoulders. “I don’t fault you for staying away. I cultivated a certain….image on purpose, sort of.” 

“Why?” 

“It was easier that way, I don’t know,” she said with a vague handwave. 

“What do you mean?” 

“Like….” She took a sip of her Diet Coke before continuing, “if I kept people at arms length, they can’t hurt me, you know?” 

“I guess,” he replied. “But it seems like a lonely way to live.” He couldn’t imagine going through life without Dustin, Lucas, and Will. 

“A little,” she admitted. She wiggled out of the booth. “I’ll be right back.” 

And damn if he wasn’t immune to watching her hips sway as she walked away, towards the back. 

* * *

Fingerless gloves off, sleeves rolled up, tap running. Purging in public wasn't something El particularly enjoyed, but she couldn’t let the calories sit in her stomach one moment longer. 

Rinsing her mouth out and washing her hands after, she re-applied her lipstick in the dingy mirror and popped a mint into her mouth from her purse. 

She still couldn’t shake the feeling that if Mike knew the “real” her, he’d be running out the door, as much as he kept reassuring her otherwise. She glared at her reflection in the mirror before heading out into the restaurant. Mike was too good for her, there was no doubt. 

“Everything okay?” He asked as she slipped back into the booth. 

She flashed him a sunny smile. “Perfect.” 

* * *

There wasn’t a whole lot to do in Hawkins, Indiana on a Friday night except drive around the lonely country roads, smoke weed in cornfields or park at the quarry. 

“Where do you want to go?” Mike asked her, as he started the car. 

“The quarry?” She asked. “I mean if you’re okay with that.” 

His eyes went a little wide at the suggestion—every teenager at Hawkins knew what that meant—but he quickly recovered himself. “Sure. No problem.” 

“Any radio preference?” El fiddled with the dial. 

“Not really.” 

With some static the radio came to life, with a bored sounding DJ announcing, “And up next we have the walrus of love himself, Barry Manilow.” 

El tried to keep a straight face but could not—one glance at Mike and the two of them cracked up. 

She fought to catch her breath as she switched the dial to the alternative station. “God, I hope nobody ever refers to me as a walrus of love.” 

Mike shook his head. “You’re too pretty for that. Plus he sounds like a dying aquatic animal.” 

She giggled. “Fair enough.” 

He put the car into park near the quarry, and El fiddled with her fingerless gloves. 

“So….” The tension was back again, far more palpable as they sat in the darkened car. 

“Yeah?” She asked. 

“I—just….never mind.” 

El regarded him curiously. “What is it?” 

And that was when he leaned in and kissed her. El’s only experience with kissing was the Funyons guy at the arcade, a hurried, regretful affair in the back room. This—this was completely different. Mike was tender, far from aggressive, as his hands fumbled and eventually settled on her waist. She felt her head spin, the butterflies in her stomach giving way to a warmth in her chest. They broke to catch their breath, foreheads pressed together, Mike licking his chapped lips. Her breath was coming in small pants. 

“Sorry if that was too much,” he murmured. 

“Mike?”

“Yeah?”

“Do it again.” 

This time, his kisses were a little messier as they both fully got into it, her hands tangled in his hair and him running his fingers along her back, itching to go further but resisting the urge. El wasn’t exactly a stranger to wanting; she had some idea of how these things would go. But what struck her was how badly she wanted, the depth to her yearning. If she were a different girl, she maybe wouldn’t be entertaining such thoughts, but with her pulse thrumming at her wrists and heat pooling in her core, she considered pulling him into the backseat for a little more than kissing. 

That is, until she saw the time on the car radio. She pulled away from Mike, breaking the kiss. “Shit!”

“What’s wrong?” He asked, in a sort of dazed way. 

“It’s 10:20.” 

“Fuck. Uh, okay. Let’s get you home.” 

She could see him struggle to get his brain back on online, and she didn’t blame him. Kissing Mike made her own synapses fire and the world slip away from her. 

They arrived back at the cabin at precisely 10:29, Mike walking her up the porch steps to the front door. 

“I...I had a really good time tonight, El.” 

She smiled. “Me, too.” 

His kiss goodbye was chaste, a light peck on the lips. El had no doubt that her dad was waiting up, based on the lights that shone through the living room curtains and the flicker of the TV. She was just about to open the front door when Mike called out her name. 

“El?”

“Hmm?” 

“I was, uh, wondering. If you want to keep doing this, um, date thing.” He didn’t quite meet her eyes. 

She nodded. “Yeah. I’d like that.” 

“Cool. Good. Yeah. I’ll see you Monday.” 

El felt as though she were floating, giddiness coursing through her veins as she opened the front door and stepped into her living room. “See you on Monday.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Also the walrus of love thing happened to me when I was coming back from a first date in Washington DC, in the cab on the way to Union Station, so I couldn't help but include it because it was so stupid. I also lived in a small town in my high school years so I can absolutely confirm that there was nothing to do but drive around and smoke weed.


	7. Irresistible

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dating El Hopper was better than Mike could have imagined.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Valentine's Day y'all! Hope you have a great day. :)
> 
> I continue to be blown away by the response to this fic; it makes my heart so happy that y'all are enjoying watching these two dorks fall in love as much as I enjoy writing it.

Mike couldn’t stop smiling from that moment on Saturday night. Normally, he was far from a morning person and wanted to toss his alarm across the room when it went off on Monday mornings. Today was an exception. 

He got dressed quickly and put a packet of un toasted cinnamon sugar pop tarts in his backpack for breakfast, racing out the front door with hardly a goodbye. 

The bike ride to Hawkins High passed in a blur of fall colors and the scent of woodsmoke. He parked his bike and locked it up, eyes scanning for any sign of El. 

“You’re here early,” Dustin noted, locking his bike next to Mike’s. 

“I could say the same about you,” Mike replied. 

Dustin opened up his backpack and pulled out a blue binder. “I forgot to finish my Calc homework.” 

Mike nodded absentmindedly, scanning the area for any sign of El. He spotted her sitting on a railing next to Max, Max’s skateboard at her feet. He wondered what the protocol here was. He didn’t want to seem overeager or clingy, but he wanted to see her, hold her hand. 

Fuck it. 

He walked over to where Max and El sat, much to Dustin’s confusion. 

“Hey,” he said, leaning in and pressing a small kiss to El’s cheek. 

“Sup, Wheeler?” Max snapped her gum. 

“Hi, Mike,” El said shyly, reaching for his hand. 

“Do me a favor, Wheeler, if you two are gonna make out just give me a heads up so I can walk away and not lose my lunch,” Max said. 

“Max!” El snapped. “Be nice.” 

“I am nice,” Max grumbled.

“Sure, whatever,” Mike said to the redhead. All that mattered was El. She looked so pretty, even half awake with a 7-11 coffee in her free hand. The bell rang, and Max hopped off the railing. “See you losers later.” 

“Walk me to homeroom?” El asked Mike, who nodded. 

Walking into school like they were—side by side, holding hands, was sure to fan the flames of gossip. But Mike didn’t care. El Hopper was his girlfriend, and everything else faded into the background. 

Sure enough, the hallway was buzzing as they walked towards the classroom; El and Mike had separate home rooms so he knew he would be late, risking a detention. Worth it, as far as he was concerned. 

He paused in front of the classroom door. “I’ll see you at lunch?” He asked, and she nodded. 

Then, much to his surprise, she stood on the tips of scuffed Converse and reached up to kiss him. Just like he had on Saturday night he fell into her kiss, his head spinning. She smelled of vanilla and smoke, and tasted vaguely of mint and Cherry ChapStick. If they were alone, the things they’d do….

He stumbled as she pulled away, his vision blurry and heart pounding. 

Just like that, she was gone and he tried to get his brain back to functioning, his feet trudging towards class. 

Yes, dating El Hopper was better than he imagined. 

* * *

**Lucas: you’re dating El Hopper and you didn’t tell us?!**

**Lucas: wtf Mike**

**Mike: well you didn’t have good things to say when you brought her up at D &D**

**Dustin: are you sure she doesn’t do drugs**

**Mike: yes, Dustin, I’m sure**

**Mike: give her a chance**

**Lucas: idk she seems kind of off. Something is going on with her**

**Will: does it even matter**

**Mike: thank you Will**

**Will: she scares me but that’s beside the point**

**Lucas: see? I’m not the only one**

**Mike: look if you can not be a dick about my gf that would be great**

**Lucas: fine. But don’t tell you I told you so when she goes full psycho on you**

**Mike: fuck off Lucas**

* * *

The whispers came to a near roar by lunch. El looked a little like a deer in the headlights as she got her lunch, and Mike grabbed her elbow. 

“Don’t worry about it. You can sit at our table.” He gestured towards the table where Lucas, Dustin, and Will sat. 

“What about Max?” 

“She can, too,” Mike said. He might as well get a chance to know his girlfriend’s best friend. 

An idea that might have been misguided as the two friend groups crowded around the plastic table in semi-awkwardness. There was a long silence then finally Dustin spoke. 

“So, uh, El, do you smoke weed?” 

“Dustin!” Mike stepped on his friend’s foot under the table. 

“Ow, dude.” 

El laughed, a musical sound. “Why, do you want some?” 

“Smooth, Henderson,” Lucas hissed. 

El shrugged her shoulders. “My dad is a cop. You’d be surprised by how much weed he confiscates. Some of those pumpkin patches outside town aren’t just selling pumpkins, you know?” 

“I mean, if you’re offering—“ Dustin started, to be promptly elbowed in the ribs by Will. 

El turned her honey-brown eyes to Will. “We’re both in seventh period art. I’ve seen your sketches. You’re really talented.” 

“Thanks.” Spots of pink appeared on Will’s cheekbones. 

Another beat of silence. El stood up, pushing back her blue plastic chair. “I’ll be right back,” she said, heading in the direction of the restrooms. 

“Wheeler.” Max grabbed him by the worst. 

“The hell, Mayfield?” Her nails were sharp. 

“Now is as good a time as any to remind you that if you hurt my best friend I will end you. Do you understand? I. Will. End. You.” 

“Understood. Jeez!” Mike wrenched his wrist away. 

“A woman with spirit,” Lucas said with approval.“I like it.” 

“No one asked you, Sinclair,” Mike and Max snapped in tandem. 

Mike sighed. Getting his friends and her friends to get along was going to be harder than he thought. 

* * *

**Mike: so El**

**El: yeah?**

**Mike: my mom wants to know if you want to come over for dinner this week. She wants to meet you.**

**El: okay I’ll ask my dad**

**El: night Mike**

**Mike: night**

Mike glanced at his clock radio, scratching his head. It was seven. Biting on the end of his pen he returned to his English homework. Girls confused the hell out of him, and he didn’t have time to try and figure out El’s passing moods, at least not right now. 

He just had to hope his family wasn’t going to completely embarrass him. 


	8. 7 Minutes in Heaven

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dinner at the Wheelers'

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I ended up writing for 7 hours on Monday and wrote 6k for this fic, instead of doing my MFA work because I am a very good student (lol)
> 
> Something I really like to explore in this story is perception. Both Mike and El have very different ways of seeing the world that leads to not quite unreliable narration, but they happen to notice different things. For instance, Mike's family is absolutely dysfunctional. This is something El doesn't pick up on because her frame of reference is different and she's longing for a mother. So that's something that takes the spotlight in this chapter. 
> 
> Btw, I made a tumblr sideblog (because my main is a ship blog for a different fandom) so if you want to chat all things Mileven with me come find me at hopelessly-devoted-to-mileven

El didn’t do well with parents. At least, not anymore. She got the feeling that Mike’s mom was gonna take one look at her and decide that she wasn’t good enough for Mike. And she knew that particular ugly truth to begin with. 

She bit her nails as she looked through her closet for something nice to wear. All of her dresses, minus the date dress, felt impossibly slutty or showed scars she didn’t want anyone to see. With a sigh she pulled out a pair of black skinny jeans, an electric blue long sleeved shirt, and a black tee layered over it. She swiped her lips with pale gloss instead of her usual darker color, and eschewed heavy eyeliner for some plain mascara. Frowning at her reflection, she sighed. 

It would have to do. 

A knock on her door. “El, are you ready?” Her dad’s voice was gruff, but that was nothing new. 

“Yeah.” She spritzed a little body spray on, and opened the door. “I just gotta grab my shoes.” She went for her Converse instead of her Docs, maybe she would hit some kind of all American vibe instead of Satanist or gangster or whatever the conservative citizens of Hawkins thought about emo music this week. 

“Thanks for giving me a ride,” she said to Hop as they pulled out of the driveway. 

“You’re welcome,” he said with some measure of surprise. 

She sunk into her seat, shame weighing her down more than she wanted to say. Things between her and her dad were so fractured and she didn’t even know how to begin to fix it. Which didn’t make her anxiety about meeting Mike’s family lessen any whatsoever. Before she knew it, they were in the Wheelers’ driveway.

“I’ll text you,” she said to her dad, who nodded. 

“Have fun.” 

“I’ll try,” she muttered under her breath as she walked up the steps to the Wheelers’ front door. Her knees were shaking a little as she rang the doorbell. The Wheeler house was brightly lit, with flowers along the walkway, a stark contrast to the small, rustic cabin near the woods that she was familiar with. 

Thankfully, it was Mike who opened the door, which eased her nerves a little. 

“Hi,” he said, ushering her in. 

“Hi,” she replied, reaching for his hand and interlacing their fingers together. 

“Dinner’s almost ready,” he said. “I hope you like meatloaf.” 

She shrugged her shoulders. “Dad’s not much of a cook so I can eat anything.” She broke away from Mike slightly. “I should ask your Mom if she needs any extra help.” 

“She probably won’t let you.” 

“Still.” 

El poked her head into the kitchen where Mrs. Wheeler, a tall woman with perfectly styled blonde hair, worked. 

“Hi Mrs. Wheeler. I’m El. I was just wondering if I could help in any way.” 

Mrs. Wheeler turned around, brushing her hands off on a tea towel, placing it on the counter. Her perfect acrylics caught the light as she held out her hand to shake. “Well, aren’t you the sweetest! It’s nice to finally meet you. I’ve heard so many good things from Mike.” 

El looked down at her scuffed sneakers in embarrassment. “Thank you.” She shook Mrs. Wheeler’s hand. “I really don’t mind helping. Keeps me busy.” 

“Such a thoughtful gesture. If you don’t mind, you can take these plates into the dining room.” She pointed at the colorful plates stacked on the counter. “Holly! It’s almost dinner time!” 

A young girl, about five or so, walked into the kitchen with a teddy bear. This must be Mike’s little sister, El realized. She knew that his older sister, Nancy, was off at NYU for college. 

“And Mike, come get the cutlery!” 

Mike followed suit and the two teens set the table. There was a sort of warmth in how the family all came together, the clattering dishes and the excited babbling of Holly, asking El all sorts of questions. 

El’s heart ached as she took in the scene; this was something she never had. Her dad had never remarried after her mom disappeared and their dinners were quiet affairs sitting at their small Formica table. 

Food was passed around, plates filled, water poured from a glass pitcher with ice and lemon slices. 

“Thank you so much for inviting me,” El said to Mrs. Wheeler, who smiled. 

“You’re very welcome, honey. You’ve grown up so much since I last saw you.”

El furrowed her brows, confused. She had no memory of meeting her. 

“You were a baby,” she said by way of explanation. “Your mother and I went to high school together.” 

“You knew my mom?” El looked down at her dinner. She knew it would be rude not to eat it, but the thought of letting food into her body repulsed her. 

Mrs. Wheeler nodded. “Yes. She, Joyce Byers and I were particularly close.” 

“Oh.” El could feel the inside of her nose itching, a lump developing in her throat. She wanted to ask Mrs. Wheeler a thousand questions about her mom, but couldn’t bring herself to. Instead, she changed the subject, the conversation flowing, no one the wiser as to the pain that nestled in the pit of her stomach. 

She mechanically ate, trying to ignore the racing anxiety that permeated her. Finally when the dishes were cleared, Mike reached for her hand again. 

“Mom, can El and I watch a movie in the basement?” 

Mrs. Wheeler glanced up from the dishwasher. “Sure.” 

And with that, Mike led her down the stairs, squeezing her hand. 

The basement was cluttered, with boxes here and there with a large leather couch and a wooden table with chairs. In a corner, what looked like a cluster of sheets arranged like a tent. 

“What’s that?” El asked, pointing at the sheet. 

“An old blanket fort thing. Kinda dumb.” Mike shrugged his shoulders, not meeting her inquiring gaze. 

“I like it,” El said. “It looks cozy.” 

“I mean, you can sit there. If you want.” 

So she got down on her hands and knees and settled in with a small smile on her face. “Mike.” 

“Yeah?” 

“You can join me, you know.” 

It was an invitation, one he took, and they sat forehead to forehead in the small structure. She wasn’t sure which one of them leaned in first but before she knew it they were kissing. Slowly at first, hesitant kisses that deepened the more she let herself sink into him—his scent, the sensation of his hands on the small of her back, his slightly chapped lips. 

The space was so small she was practically sitting on his lap as they kissed. His hands on her lower back left her flushed, heat at every nervous touch. They broke apart briefly to catch their breath, hunger driving her forward. 

El wasn’t exactly a stranger to the concept of desire. She had checked out enough romance novels at the library to have an idea of what it was supposed to feel like. But until this moment she hadn’t fully understood what it meant to burn for someone the way she burned for Mike. 

She knew, of course, that she wasn’t supposed to indicate as much. That she was supposed to feel shame for wanting. 

But she didn’t. 

His kisses moved from her mouth to her neck, the feeling of his lips on the sensitive skin enough to make her gasp. He pulled away. 

“Did I do something wrong?” He asked, brown eyes filled with worry. 

She shook her head. “No. I—I liked it. It felt good.” 

“Oh. Good. I just, um, worried I hurt you or something.” 

“Mike.”

“Yeah?”

“Kiss me.” 

And so he did, pressing kisses along her jaw, down her neck, his teeth scraping against her skin and making her shiver. His hands moved from her lower back to her waist to fiddling with the bottom of her shirts, waiting for her permission to do more. 

She gave her consent and shivered a little as his hands made contact with the bare skin of her torso. And then slowly, his hand shaking, he traced the outline of her bra. A combination of adrenaline and nerves seized her as he explored her body, heat and butterflies pooling in the pit of her stomach. 

Then, a disconcerting strip of light as the basement door opened a crack. 

“Michael!” It was Mrs. Wheeler, calling down the stairs. 

El and Mike broke apart, embarrassed, Mike rolling rather inelegantly out of the blanket fort. 

“What, Mom?” He snapped. 

“Chief Hopper called, wondering what time El was due home.” 

“Shit,” he muttered under his breath. “I can drop her off if you let me borrow the car.” 

“Sure thing, I’ll let him know.” The door shut and the tension diffused. El glanced over at Mike, nerves and second hand embarrassment overtaking her. She couldn’t help it; she started to laugh. 

A brief look of offense crossed his features until it sunk in that El wasn’t laughing at him. Then he joined her, the absurdity of the situation striking him. 

He held out his hand to her and El took it. “Let’s take you home,” he said, and she nodded. 

It wasn’t until later, lying in bed and trying to sleep, that El realized that it was about so much more than wanting him. She realized, burying her face in her pillow, that she cared about Mike Wheeler, far more than she wanted to admit. 

Somewhere along the way, she had begun to let him into her heart, and she couldn’t shake the feeling that she would get hurt. 


End file.
